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Updated: June 22, 2025
McArdle having got a half-day off, came home highly wrought up again at thought of meeting Captain Haney and his handsome wife. He looked distinctly less care-worn, though he confessed that it was hard to rise at the hour necessary to reach his work at seven. Bertha's heart warmed to him.
But McArdle was his first lieutenant, and it was he that we knew. The old man nodded as I entered the room, and he pushed his spectacles far up on his bald forehead. "Well, Mr. Malone, from all I hear, you seem to be doing very well," said he in his kindly Scotch accent. I thanked him. "The colliery explosion was excellent. So was the Southwark fire. You have the true descreeptive touch.
Surely it was too goodly a residence that we should be so swiftly, so ruthlessly, evicted from it! But I have said that the telephone-bell had rung once more. Suddenly I heard Challenger's tremendous voice from the hall. "Malone!" he cried. "You are wanted." I rushed down to the instrument. It was McArdle speaking from London. "That you, Mr. Malone?" cried his familiar voice. "Mr.
We opened with a prologue, originally written by myself, but re-cast and very much improved by John McArdle. I may say that we two often did a considerable amount of journalistic work in that way in after years. I can just remember a little of the prologue. These were the opening lines: Sons of green Erin, we greet you this night! And you, too, her daughters how welcome the sight!
If we do, this letter will be a mail ahead. If not, it will reach London on the very day that I do. In either case, my dear Mr. McArdle, I hope very soon to shake you by the hand. "A Procession! A Procession!" I should wish to place upon record here our gratitude to all our friends upon the Amazon for the very great kindness and hospitality which was shown to us upon our return journey.
When he saw the girl he felt a faint thrill. The reason for this was that Dora McArdle somewhat resembled Julia. The resemblance was slight and superficial, yet instantly noticeable. She was a little larger, but had about the same figure, and the same colour of hair, and above all the same sensuous, provocative mouth.
"Why must he always go back to that?" she asked, hotly. They ate their dinner in the big dining-room surrounded by waiters, while the Captain discussed his sister and her family. "I'll do something for Fan," he said. "She's a different sort from Charles. McArdle seems a hard-workin' chap, the kind that a little help wouldn't spile. What do you think of buyin' them a bit of a house somewhere?"
We afterwards had some able men on the paper. Among these was John McArdle, who left us, as I have said, to join the "Nation." He became later a well-known dramatic author, his chief works being burlesques and pantomimes. We also had James Lysaght Finigan, of whom I speak elsewhere.
This younger McArdle, originally intended for the Church, became in after life a brilliant journalist, and was for a time on the staff of the "Nation," the teaching of which he had so early imbibed.
Sir John Mandeville redivivus Cagliostro all the imposters and bullies in history. I'll show him up for the fraud he is." "I wouldn't do that, sir." "Why not?" "Because he is not a fraud at all." "What!" roared McArdle. "You don't mean to say you really believe this stuff of his about mammoths and mastodons and great sea sairpents?" "Well, I don't know about that.
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